Anyone with eyes could see that although she appeared gentle and obedient on the surface, like a pretty little accessory to be brought along, deep down she was resistant and fearful. Yet she had to sit here obediently, accepting the care and goodwill her brother bestowed upon her from above.
As for the brother in question, it went without saying. After several interactions, he could read her little thoughts without even guessing—cautious, timid, afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of angering him.
Fortunately, a waiter in a suit vest, nearly 1.8 meters tall, appeared just in time. Under the light, he introduced the upcoming dishes in very standard Mandarin, easing the atmosphere.
It had to be said that the service here was top-notch from head to toe. No wonder this place had topped the Black Pearl restaurant rankings within just two years of opening and had remained there ever since. This waiter's eloquence was wasted even as a broadcaster.
The exquisitely presented dishes were served one after another. Just as her brother had said, without a staple food, something always felt missing. Even if she had eaten a bellyful of snacks, she would inevitably nibble on a few crackers or a slice of bread at night to fill the gap—only then would it feel complete.
After listening to a series of professional explanations—like how the tea used in the tea-soaked rice was a smoked small-leaf black tea unique to South City, a prizewinner from years ago, with an orange-yellow, clear broth and a faint aroma of longan and pine smoke, and how the rice grains were plump and distinct after being soaked; how the milk custard was made by an old master from Ziguang Garden with over a dozen ingredients; and so on—
Just listening made her mouth water, let alone having the delicious food right before her eyes.
Seeing her not moving, just staring at the tea cup, Lu Tingzhou said, "Eat. What are you staring at?"
As he spoke, he took out a wet paper napkin and handed it to her—a male mother hen, with everything in his pocket seemingly.
Cheng Buxi had already washed her hands once, but obediently took it and wiped them again, then accepted the hot towel from the waiter.
After completing the whole ritual, she picked up the beautiful jade-green chopsticks. Just as she was about to pick up a piece of golden, crispy sweet-savory custard to whet her appetite, she suddenly paused, remembering something, and quickly turned to ask, "Bro, aren't you eating?"
Her big, watery doe eyes were round, nearly breaching etiquette.
Lu Tingzhou replied, "I'm not eating."
Outside the window, the full moon hung high, its bright light illuminating the pavilions and water features. The rockeries stood in sharp, extraordinary poses, and a stream of water shimmered. Some of this light also fell on his profound, handsome brows.
"So all of this is mine?" Cheng Buxi asked.
"Mm, all yours."
Big Brother's eyes drooped slightly. His full lips were pressed together, a faint weariness emanating from him. He had been working continuously at high intensity, hadn't slept in 24 hours, and had even made a trip to her school in between. Looking closely, his lips were almost straight, with hardly any curve. Only when he watched her eat did he lift his noble eyelids.
He was still wearing the same clothes he had on at the gym today: a black knee-length wool coat over a turtleneck cashmere sweater with a folded collar—the sweater's color was very soft, a bit like gun smoke; straight-leg tailored black trousers with black leather shoes. Recently, he seemed fond of dark red striped ties, matching them several times in a row, tying a half-Windsor knot, with a silver tie clip adding a touch of defiance. He stood tall and graceful, exuding extraordinary presence, and this outfit accentuated his scholarly nature and elegant demeanor.
Crisis averted. It seemed he really just brought her here to eat and fill the gap, not to scold her about today's cheerleading incident. Cheng Buxi relaxed completely and focused on enjoying the delicacies.
...
She was delightful to watch while eating—not very ladylike, but full of appetite. Lu Tingzhou ordered a portion for himself as well.
Brother and sister rarely had such quiet time together.
After eating half a small bowl, the choy sum was almost untouched, but she had eaten quite a bit of the custard. Lu Tingzhou suddenly asked her, "Did you have fun today?"
Cheng Buxi was stunned.
Why ask that all of a sudden?
Did he already know?
Or was it just genuine concern?
Her fingers under the table curled up. Sure enough, she couldn't casually lie. How many lies would it take to cover up this one?
Ahhhh
Sin, oh sin.
"Fun..." she said, with a rice grain still stuck at the corner of her mouth.
Her lips were a bright, vivid red, like jelly. Lu Tingzhou's heart stirred, and he reached out, wanting to remove the rice grain. But she dodged as if faced with a mortal enemy, flustered and panicked.
The movement was so large, as if she were fleeing from a flood or a beast.
Lu Tingzhou's hand hung in the air, lonely.
The atmosphere tensed for a moment.
Clearly, in the past, when she was little, she had been exceptionally close to him. Touching was the most common thing. So why had she become a completely different person now?
—
A flicker of something unusual crossed Big Brother's brow. Looking closely at the shallow furrow between his brows, it was filled with extremely complex, repressed, and bewildered emotions. Though he pretended to be composed and unruffled on the surface, his hand tightened slightly. Beneath the undercurrent, his gaze was restrained to calm.
He withdrew his hand, pressed his lips tightly together, lifted his chin, and his pupils darkened a shade.
Sensing something, Cheng Buxi extended her small red tongue, licked the rice grain from the corner of her mouth, then giggled foolishly a couple of times, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and pretended to be innocent and naive as she buried her head back in her meal. She made a show of eating the few stalks of choy sum.
Yes, she didn't like vegetables, she liked sweets; she didn't like porridge, she liked tofu pudding. It had always been this way since childhood.
Lu Tingzhou had anticipated this when he ordered the dish, but seeing it now was more direct.
It seemed she was still the same naive and carefree little sister from his memories. If that was the case, could the estrangement and rift between them also be forgotten?
Clearly not.
Because the person across from him didn't allow it.
He raised his brow slightly, unable to bear seeing the choy sum being mangled. "If you don't want to eat it, then don't. Stop wasting it—was the movie good?" he asked.
"Uh—" She had almost forgotten about that. Cheng Buxi quickly put down her chopsticks, thought for a moment, and said, "So-so..."
She and Ning Ci hadn't actually gone to see a movie. They had passed by a shadow puppet theater and saw an open-air cultural performance outside. The staff had set up a stage and were performing for free to tourists.
With nothing else to do—they had come to buy clothes but hadn't bought any—they stopped to watch. The performance was "Mulan," with the familiar lines: "Jiji, jiji, Mulan wove at the door."
Ning Ci laughed, saying he also had a Mulan by his side—a heroine among women, famous for her rolls, very brave. Cheng Buxi caught the teasing and mockery in his words, blushed, and quickly urged him to leave.